


Flint's

by LoonyFred



Category: Black Sails, Treasure Island - Robert Louis Stevenson
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, M/M, Missing Scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 08:30:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6044929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyFred/pseuds/LoonyFred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Flint lost Miranda Billy thought he could fill that space in his Captain's heart. But his hopes were false, all his efforts futile. </p><p>The fic takes place right before they set sail for the Jamaica raid (3.01). No smut, no nothing, just angsty Billy Bones and his shattered dreams about his Captain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flint's

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I'd write something like that, but the first episodes of the new season inspired me.  
> Poor ansgty Billy. How sorry I feel for him.

The place is dark, unbearably crowded and smells of sandal and spices. It’s been a while since Billy’s last visit to the brothel. Several girls turn their heads up as they notice him stagger inside with a half empty bottle in his hand. He doesn’t make eye contact with any of them - hell what’s he doing here, really - he walks on instead until he bumps into one of the free tables and sinks down onto the chair heavily. The bottle touches the wooden surface of the table with a loud clank. Billy watches the liquid in it whirl. He doesn’t want more. He’s had enough already. But he knows he needs to continue filling himself with as much rum as he can take, because It’s the only sure way to make this voice inside his head shut the hell up. This voice is always there. The part of himself dividing reality from his naive hopes.

“He doesn’t need you”, it whispers. “Not like you need him. He’ll do just fine without you, and you know it.”

Billy gives out a low moan. He wants so desperately to drown his demons. And this means more rum. He finishes the bottle with a couple needy gulps and puts the empty vessel on the table. One of the whores comes to him at once trying to put her arms around his neck, but Billy resists the contact. She massages his shoulders with her thin yet strong fingers. He shrugs.

“More rum,” he sighs. The blonde whore rolls her eyes and leaves to fetch him a bottle. She doesn’t come back, though. The madame brings the booze instead. She puts the rum and two glasses on the table. Billy knows her: Rackham’s whore, Max, the one who helped stealing the Urca gold from Flint and his brothers. Not that he cares about that business anymore. 

“Mind if I sit?” she askes, sounding intrigued. Indeed, he isn’t exactly a regular customer here. Not that he is a customer at all. At least, he’s not interested in the service they provide. Only in booze.  
Billy nods. She tucks her luxurious silky blue dress as she sits down on the opposite chair.  
“You’re from the Walrus crew, are you not?” she asks in that French accent of hers which many men find so alluring. “Captain Flint’s… ” she pauses, not knowing how to finish the sentence, waiting for him to do it.

He just nods again, as he can’t finish it either. He’s not a quartermaster, nor a boatswain anymore, they had Paxton fill in the position when Billy was presumed dead, and he never claimed his post back. Yet even this whore knows he is Flint’s.

He’s Flint’s… Flint’s who? Just Flint’s, that must be it. He belongs to the man, by his own choice with his guts and his heart. All of him. There’s no other life, even if he tries to imagine himself somewhere beyond the deck of the Walrus, far away from the swords and the pistols, from all the raids… It’s still impossible, it would not be him. Because there is no him outside his oath and his loyalty. There is no him without his Captain, and in his wildest dreams he sees the same being true for Flint. But it ain’t. He knows that for sure now.

“He won’t stop until there’s no more of you left… He’ll push you to the edge and beyond. You know that, Billy. You must know that,” the voice whispers. Billy doesn’t bother pouring the drink into his glass. Why do this, when you can drink just like that, from the bottle itself? 

Max is watching him closely as he drinks. Must be planning a scheme already, a way to lure out some valuable information about Captain Flint and his crew. Something she could use later. No such luck Madame, Billy chuckles to himself, there’s no way these whores can open him up about his Captain’s secrets. 

Because he knows none. 

Because Flint… shit, the bastard's full of secrets, just as he’s full of shit, but he won’t tell a soul what his plans are or what’s tormenting him… Oh, how Billy wants to know more about the Captain, more than anything, he wants to be able to pierce through Flint’s armor and know him.

“I haven’t exactly seen you here before…” Max starts seductively. “Considering your obvious lack of interest in the company of the ladies here, I wonder… Is there some business you wish to see to?”  
Billy takes another sip, feels the rum run through his throat. Good Lord, just how much he hates drinking.

“I’m seeing to it right now.”  
“You just want to drink?” she asks with a great deal of surprise in her voice. Shit, did she really think he came here with some sort of secret agenda?  
“I don’t want to drink” Billy corrects her. “I need to drink. And I hate drinking alone. So yes, I have some interest in the company. Just not the usual sort of company for this place."  
“Why not get wasted with your mates?” she wonders.  
“When I'm wasted, I become talkative, but I’m afraid that whatever I might be willing to share tonight isn’t meant for any of their ears.”

She gives out an amused chuckle. 

“Do I smell a secret, after all?”

Billy takes another gulp, puts the empty bottle on the table and looks at Max. She’s smiling. 

“Not the kind of secret you can find any use to...”  
“Let me decide that,” Max says as she rises and leaves him for the time being to get another bottle.

What am I doing here, a thought comes to the irritated mind, and vanishes, once the Madame is back with new refreshments. She’s wise to have brought two bottles with her.

Billy knows it was a bad idea to let her stay and listen. He knows he should’ve just rented a room for the night, stayed there and drunk himself to oblivion. Yet here she is, the Madame, facing him respectfully across the table, not trying to get any closer – she knows there’s no use to it – but prepared to listen with all her attention. She must be still hoping to get something useful out of his drunken blabber, Billy thinks, well good luck with that.

“Tell me, Mr Bones,” she starts, “what is it that you’re trying to take your mind off so desperately?”

Billy raises his eyes up at her, she returns the gaze and she seems genuinely curious as to what he’s got to say.

“Him.”

“Him?” Max raises one eyebrow. “Who? Your Captain?”

Billy nods.

For some time they sit like that, facing each other. She pours him one glass after another, and somewhere around the fourth one he starts talking.

“When you devote yourself to someone’s affairs, when you support his every plan, even the most reckless ones, when you stand by his side as he seeds chaos and destruction for reasons that you suspect are more of a personal origin, than he claims them to be… you pledge your very life to the man… ”

“Oh,” she says, diverting her gaze for a second. “I guess you were right, it is not the kind of secret I could use. And I have to tell you, this isn’t a kind of secret I wish to exploit either.”

There’s a painful crack in her voice. Maybe she gets it… Maybe she knows exactly what he’s talking about.

“I thought when that woman, his woman… when she was no longer by his side, I thought he would have no one closer, but me. I’d expected him to share his pain, to confide in me… I was there. For him. Always. I was there when he needed me, I was prepared to share the hardship of this time with him, yet I never thought the truth would be so plain and merciless: he’s never really needed me at all… He doesn’t care what I think or how I feel. He doesn’t let me know what he feels, too. He wants me as a servant, not someone who is there for him, who cares. He's alone, and he’s quite functional this way…”

Billy knew this would happen, when he decided to come here. He knew he'd let something out eventually, yet he didn’t think he’d be able to let go of his control so easily. But there’s just something about this woman, about her attentive and caring look, that makes him want to talk, and talk, on and on, and all he tells Max is about one stubborn villainous pirate captain. His Captain.

She doesn’t interrupt him once, she just sits there, listens to his painful confessions and keeps pouring him rum. Billy hates himself for this, for losing his self-restraints, for opening up to a total stranger. Yet he feels certain relief, having told Max about the feelings he has for Flint. Somehow through this one-sided talk these feelings manage to manifest themselves into reality. Before this evening Billy used to hide the truth and never admit its existence, as if by not telling anyone he could make those feelings disappear. But now if feels as if his words materialise, turn into something weighty, something real. So what if his crewmen learn of his love for Flint? Let them. So what if Flint does? Let him know it, too. Not that Billy has any hopes for his Captain’s attitude to him change, but, who cares? At least he won’t have to hide his feelings anymore. At least he could be honest with himself…

Max and two other girls help him get up in the room when he’s too wasted to walk on his own. He wants to pay for the room and the rum, his hands are shaky, and suddenly his brain can’t seem to work properly and add the sums he owes them.

“You'll pay in the morning,” Max commands, as they tuck him inside the room. Billy staggers heavily towards the bed and falls onto it, face down, unable to even undress.

“Look at you, Billy Bones, aren’t you pathetic? ” the inner voice returns. Not so loud now, but still too irritating. Stings at his heart like a wild wasp. “Having heart-to-hearts with whores now, are we? Of course, you ain’t have no balls to say all the same shit right into his face…”

He passes out before he can think of anything else.

***

John Silver was standing by the reel, looking ahead, waiting for the Captain to get back. They were ready to set sail to Jamaica, for this raid Flint had planned, to address the recent public hangings. Almost all the crewmen were already aboard, but for Muldoon, Dobbs and Billy Bones. Finally he noticed Billy in one of the longboats. As they got nearer, Silver took a closer look at Bones. He was, as usual, well-washed, cleanshaven and dressed quite smartly for a pirate, with his pristine linen shirt colar neatly ironed and a bunch of carefully chosen necklaces around his neck. This was something Silver never understood about Billy. He was a god damn pirate for fuck’s sake, yet he always tried to dress like a gentleman. Well, to the extent the pirate lifestyle could allow.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Silver asked Bones as soon as he climbed aboard. “Two days I have to manage the ship without you.”

“Didn’t kill you, though,” Billy replied in a very unfriendly tone. Billy wasn’t exactly John’s friend, and never hid his hostility towards Silver when they were alone, so it wasn’t surprising, really. Still, John was somewhat curious about Bones’ business. He knew he could easily get into the heads of all men on “Walrus”, even into Flint’s head eventually. But not into this man’s head he couldn’t. Billy Bones was mysterious as fuck, and he secured his private life like no one else on this ship.

“Still, where did you go?” John tried again. “You don’t have a home here, do you? Did you stay at the inn?”

“At the brothel.” Bones dropped casually, and forwarded his gaze towards one of the longboats approaching the ship. Must’ve spotted Flint from afar.

“Are you kidding me?” Silver chuckled. “Everyone knows that when it comes to the brothel affairs, you’re a no-goer.”

“Is that so?” Billy snorted, still not looking at him, as he fumbled with his necklaces, setting them just about right.

“You know the Captain doesn’t approve of any of the senior crew members there…” John began carefully, but Billy interrupted him.

“I`m not a senior crew member. But hey, if you’re worried about the secrets I might spill to the whores, I suggest you remember last time I betrayed Flint…”

“There was none.” Silver replied confusedly.

“Precisely,” Billy stated, and turned his back to Silver, demonstrating the end of their conversation. “Morining, Captain!” he was smiling, as he watched Flint climb aboard.


End file.
